


Treasure

by Angela



Category: Banana Fish
Genre: Adventure, Boys Being Boys, Canon Compliant, Cape Cod, Gen, Treasure Hunt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2018-05-03
Packaged: 2019-04-26 04:01:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14393856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angela/pseuds/Angela
Summary: Ash, Eiji, and Shorter are in Ash's hometown in Cape Cod. While Max and Ibe are busy trying to get the truck repaired, Eiji finds an old treasure map that Ash's brother Griffin made for him before he left for Vietnam. Ash never found the treasure, but Eiji and Shorter are determined that now he will.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I took some liberties with the timeline here. I don't think the manga allows for more than one - at most two - nights spent in Cape Cod, but I was inspired by "That Summer," the comic in the Angel Eyes art book and wanted to give them a little more time for an adventure.
> 
> This is a gift for Kay the Cricketed, assuming she's still around reading BF fanfic. She always loved it best when Ash and Eiji were allowed to be normal boys together.
> 
> Also, this is my first Banana Fish fanfic since 2009. Nine years have changed a lot of things, but hopefully you'll still like what I write. <3

Ash gently squeezed the trigger; at practically the same instant, the glass soda bottle that had been resting on a fence eight meters away shattered into shards and dust. The pistol’s sharp retort rang in Eiji’s ears, but by now he’d learned not to flinch at the sound. He watched as Ash changed his aim just the tiniest bit, exhaled and shot again. And then again, until all six of the green 7-Up bottles were destroyed. 

“The trick is to shoot as you exhale,” Ash said, flipping open the revolver and filling the empty chambers with fresh bullets from his pocket. “If you try to shoot on an inhale, your arm jerks up.”

Eiji took the gun when Ash offered it to him, surprised all over again that it was so heavy. Its handle was warm from Ash’s touch. He kept it aimed at the ground as Ash trudged back to the fence. “How did you learn this?” Eiji asked him, using his free hand to shade his eyes from the glare of the midday sunlight.

At first Ash didn’t answer. He grabbed six more bottles from the bucket next to the fence post and set them up along the top rail. He spaced them out this time, giving Eiji plenty of room to miss, the older boy realized. He even turned them so their labels faced Eiji – two Cokes, one Pepsi, and three more 7-Ups. It was the only thing Shorter would drink, and he guzzled down at least six or seven every day, so they had plenty of the empty green bottles.

Just as Eiji decided that he wasn’t going to get an answer from Ash, he spoke. “I had a teacher,” he said vaguely. Eiji waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t. That’s how it was with Ash sometimes. Most of the time, really. He’d answer just about any question the Japanese boy asked, but his answers were usually incomplete and unsatisfying. Eiji had stopped being annoyed; instead he just filed the partial responses away in his memory, knowing that eventually he’d have enough pieces to work out the whole picture.

“Now you try,” Ash said, returning to Eiji’s side. He squinted a bit, glancing at the sun like a cowboy in a western, trying to gauge the time. “I’ll bet we have less than half an hour before Shorter starts ringing that damned bell for lunch.”

Eiji looked at the bottles – eight meters didn’t seem like such a long way. He figured he could hit them pretty easily. He cupped the butt of the pistol in his left hand, just like Ash had shown him, then wrapped his right hand around that one, resting his index finger on the trigger. The trigger made him nervous; Eiji had no idea how much pressure it would take to make the gun fire. 

“The gun’s heavier than you think,” Ash was saying. “It takes a lot of work to hold it steady. Your arms are pretty strong from vaulting, but they might not be the same muscles you need for shooting.” His hands ran down Eiji’s bare forearm, pressing a spot just inside his elbow – exactly the spot where Eiji already felt the strain from the heavy weapon. “Try to take some of the weight in your shoulders instead. Up here.” He moved his hand up, sliding it beneath the sleeve of Eiji’s t-shirt to squeeze a muscle just beneath his shoulder joint. Eiji shifted the weight, and Ash was right – it did make the gun feel a bit steadier.

Ash stepped back and nodded for Eiji to give it a try. The bottles glinted in the sunlight, and Eiji zeroed in on the Pepsi logo, round like a target. He squinted one eye shut, peering down the barrel with the other. The trigger was less sensitive than he feared, and he pulled it too hard, sucking his breath in as he yanked and feeling his entire body tense in anticipation. 

The shot reverberated in the air, but the bottle sat, unchanged, on the fence.

“I missed,” Eiji observed, frowning.

Ash looked smug. “Did you ever!” He reached out and lowered Eiji’s arms, aiming the gun back toward the ground. “What’d you do wrong?”

Eiji thought about it. “I pulled trigger too hard,” he admitted. “It jerked the whole gun.”

Ash nodded. “You also closed one eye to aim. That throws everything off. You have to keep both eyes open – not just when you’re aiming but also while you shoot. You’ll have plenty of time to blink afterwards.”

“Okay,” Eiji said, lifting the gun once more. “I keep eyes open this time.” 

Ash grinned at him. “And exhale,” he insisted. “Pull the trigger on the exhale.”

Eiji missed again. And again. 

“Why can I not hit them?” he asked. He could hear the frustration in his voice.

“It’s harder than it looks, huh?” Ash slung an arm around Eiji’s shoulders. “Ready to give up?”

Give up? Eiji looked up at Ash’s superior expression and felt his determination flare up. How could he let this kid – two years younger than him! – get the better of him like that? “I will try again,” Eiji insisted through gritted teeth. Ash laughed.

The next shot rang out, harmless, but the fifth finally found purchase. It didn’t hit the bottle, but the bullet drove into the fence rail beneath, the reverberation sending all six bottles crashing to the ground. Ash whooped, delighted. “You almost hit one!” he cried.

Eiji arched an eyebrow. “One? I did better than one. I get six in one shot.”

Ash laughed and took the gun from him. Eiji thought to insist on taking the last shot in the gun, but the light in his friend’s face silenced him. Had he ever seen Ash laugh like that? In the months they’d spent together, there hadn’t been much occasion for laughter. Eiji found that he liked Ash this way, liked the way his face transformed in happiness, losing all its steel and sharp edges.

From across the grassy dunes, the peal of a bell stole Ash’s attention. He scowled, the steel returning in an instant. “I wish Shorter had never found that goddamned bell,” he growled, throwing a dark look over his shoulder toward the little shack in the distance.

“It is good,” Eiji countered, elbowing his friend gently. “How else we know to come back?”

Ash pushed his revolver into the back of his jeans. “We could just come back when we’re hungry,” he grumbled. “Better yet, we could go find our own food. Then we wouldn’t have to eat the lousy stuff Shorter makes.”

“That is good point,” Eiji conceded. The first morning they were there, Shorter had discovered the neglected little kitchen in Ash’s tiny cottage. He’d promptly declared himself the cook, sending Max and Ibé out for groceries. He’d cooked at least twice a day since then, sometimes more. Burned bacon had been their breakfast that morning, and strangely-sweet spaghetti had been served for dinner the night before. Even Eiji, who never understood the American fascination with greasy fast food, found himself longing for a cheeseburger or a slice of pizza instead.

The bell rang again, louder and more insistent. Ash sighed. “He won’t quit until he sees us,” he said quietly. He bumped his shoulder against Eiji’s, a spark of mischief in his gaze. “Last one back has to eat seconds,” he said.

With a hoot, he was off, scrambling down the scrubby, sandy dunes. Eiji gaped, startled, but recovered quickly. He was a natural runner, after all, and a second helping of Shorter’s lunch was something he planned to avoid.

***  
They spent the afternoon inside. A storm rolled in while they ate lunch – hot dogs and a pot of sticky boxed macaroni and cheese – trapping them indoors while the rain slammed against the shingles outside. 

The house was small, but Eiji liked it. There were only two rooms, but the walls were lined with windows and the light made the space homey. The main room had the living area and a small kitchen with a tiny fridge and two-burner gas stove. A breeze came through the open windows, the deep eaves sheltering them from the rain. 

There was a trap door in the floor in one corner – Ash had told them it led to a small root cellar. “We never had any extra food to keep there,” he’d explained when Eiji had first asked about it, “and it gets really wet when it rains or when the tide is super high, so we never used it.” His eyes got a faraway look that Eiji had never seen before. “When I was little, I hated that door. I thought that there were monsters down there.”

“It’s probably flooding as we speak,” Shorter complained as the rain poured down. He stomped on the trap door, looking generally irritated. “I was planning to go down there today.”

“What for?” Ash asked.

Shorter shrugged. “Explore? Nothing else to do around here.”

He wasn’t wrong. There was no television unless you wanted to head over to Ash’s father’s bar, which none of them did. Shorter had found an old transistor radio next to Griff’s bed, but the batteries were dead. Max and Ibé had gone into town to find some kind of part for the truck, so there wasn’t even the entertainment of messing with the old guys. 

While Eiji washed the lunch dishes, Shorter dumped a battered jigsaw puzzle onto the round dining table. “All the pieces better be here,” he said to no one in particular, peering over his shades at the image of a lighthouse on the front of the box. “I’d hate to put together nine-hundred-ninety-nine pieces and find the last one’s missing.”

Ash scoffed from where he sprawled on the couch. “Don’t count on it,” he warned. “Those puzzles have been here since the sixties.” 

“Why are they all pictures of lighthouses?” Shorter asked. There were at least ten jigsaw puzzles on a shelf under the window. Every last one of them was an image of a lighthouse.

“Beats me,” Ash told him. “I think they were Griff’s mom’s. She must’ve had a thing for ‘em.” He had a book in his hand, but Eiji didn’t think he was really reading it. He’d become restless as the storm clouds covered the blue sky, pacing the floor for a while before he finally grabbed a book from the over-stuffed bookcase in the corner. 

The water was hot and soapy, and Eiji enjoyed the repetition of the task – dunk, wipe, rinse, repeat. He set the dishes on a towel to drain and dried his hands on his jeans. “Does anyone want tea?” he asked, filling the kettle. The stove clicked for a long time before the flame caught, filling the room with the scent of natural gas. 

Shorter didn’t look up from his puzzle, lifting his half-consumed bottle of Seven-Up in answer. Ash grunted an assent, and Eiji searched the ancient cabinet for mugs. He found two: one badly chipped and the other much smaller, featuring the painted face of a Muppet. A wave of affection washed over him as he imagined Ash as a kid, maybe using that mug for hot chocolate while he and Griffin watched a similar storm raging outside. Eiji fished a box of tea from the grocery bags on the counter, grimacing at the brand. There seemed to be no good tea in America, but this kind was particularly bland.

The kettle whistled. Once the tea was steeping, Eiji carried the mugs across the room and settled on the sofa next to Ash. “Is your book good?” he asked, handing his friend the larger mug.

Ash looked at the book in his hand. It was a yellowed paperback with the picture of a girl and a sailboat on the cover. The boy shrugged. “I have no idea,” he admitted. 

That made Eiji smile. “You are thinking, instead?” he asked.

Shrugging, Ash shook his head. “Kind of?” he said uncertainly. He sighed and wrapped his fingers around the mug. “I haven’t been home in a real long time,” he admitted softly. “It’s. . . weird.”

Eiji wanted to ask more, wanted to open up this new version of Ash and look inside to see how he worked. But he didn’t. By now he knew better, knew that Ash would share what he wanted and would resent being asked for more.

“This is where you slept?” Eiji asked instead, taking the four short steps to the open doorway to the other room. They’d all been sleeping there the last few nights – Eiji in the small bed, Max and Ibé in the larger one, Ash and Shorter wrapped in sleeping bags on the floor. After the first night, Shorter claimed the couch in the other room, but Ash didn’t seem to mind the wide planks of oak. Eiji had offered to trade, but Ash brushed it off.

Now he looked over Eiji’s shoulder into the bedroom, his expression distant. “Yeah,” he said at last. “Griff had the big bed; mine was the small one.” Something in his tone made Eiji look at the beds, imagining a very young Ash creeping to his brother’s side. Or maybe later, after Griffin went to war, he’d taken to sleeping in his brother’s space instead. 

There was a tall chest of drawers against the far wall, an oil painting of a beatific, haloed Jesus hanging above it. Eiji had seen pictures like these before – apparently they were so common in American households that people barely noticed them. He walked closer; a loose floorboard squeaked and shifted under his weight. There was a collection of small plastic army men on the dresser, as well as a kid-sized baseball glove and a stack of paperbacks. Eiji set down his mug. “These are your things?” he asked, picking up the baseball glove. It was coated in a decade of dust. “You played baseball?”

Ash’s expression darkened. He jumped off the couch and snatched the glove from Eiji’s hands. “Every kid out here plays baseball,” he growled, throwing the glove into a corner. A folded piece of paper fluttered out of it, landing on the floor near Eiji’s feet.

“What is this?” he asked, scooping up the page. It was lined paper, the edge ragged from being torn from a spiral notebook. He unfolded it carefully – the folds were soft as though they’d been handled countless times, the writing on the page faded and scratchy. Eiji squinted at it. “I cannot read it so well.”

Ash moved slowly, almost as though he were underwater. His hands reached out, gently tugging the old note from Eiji’s fingers. He exhaled sharply and his green eyes widened. For the barest instant, Eiji thought he saw the sheen of tears, but Ash blinked hard and the puddling reflection was gone.

“It’s a map,” he said simply. “A treasure map.”

Eiji was surprised. “Pirate treasure?” he asked. Every kid in the world knew about pirates and treasure maps, but he was somehow startled to think of Ash ever believing in that kind of tale.

An unconscious smile twisted Ash’s lips. “Griff made it for me when he got drafted,” he explained. “He said that he’d hidden something great, and I just had to be smart enough to find it.”

“What was it?” Eiji asked.

Ash’s smile turned wistful. He shrugged. “Dunno,” he admitted. “I never found it.”

“Good job, Eiji!” They both turned to see Shorter leaning in the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest. “You just found us something to do tomorrow!”

Eiji blinked. “What –”

Ash shook his head. “No.”

But Shorter only grinned. “Oh yeah,” he said, nodding. “We’re going treasure hunting!”


	2. Chapter 2

Eiji filled empty soda bottles with water and packed them into the bottom of his knapsack. On top of those he added the foil-wrapped sandwiches that Shorter had made – he must’ve used the entire loaf of bread. The Chinese boy had set a bag of corn chips and a pouch of beef jerky next to the sandwiches. Eiji wrinkled his nose; the American idea of a balanced meal was pretty ridiculous. He pulled a few apples from the shopping bag on the counter and added them to to the knapsack. “Lunch is packed,” he announced.

Shorter looked up from his own pack. He had scrounged up a couple of flashlights and a considerable length of rope from the back of Max’s truck. “I wish we had a whip,” he said wistfully.

“Whip?” Eiji couldn’t think of why they would need one. Maybe it meant something different than he thought?

“Like Indiana Jones!” Shorter cried, miming a whip crack as he tilted an invisible hat brim. “We’re going on an adventure!”

The reference was lost on Eiji, but Ash smirked. “You wish you were Indiana Jones,” he teased.

“I do! I admit it!” Shorter insisted. “He fights Nazis and gets to be a total stud with women! Who wouldn’t want that?”

“Not me,”Ash insisted. “That guy’s got _tenure,_ man! He should teach his classes and live the easy life!” They went back and forth on the pros and cons of being a globe-trotting archaeologist, and Eiji slowly realized they were talking about a movie. He dismissed it as yet another thing he wasn’t going to be able to keep up with here in America.

Instead he came around behind Ash and looked at the map he had been studying. It was crudely-drawn, definitely not to scale. A star with the words “Start Here” were visible among a flock of fluffy cartoon sheep. Eiji put his finger near the star. “We start in a sheep pasture?” he asked.

Ash looked up at him and shrugged. “Looks like it,” he said. “Problem is, there aren’t any sheep around here. Maybe not on the entire cape.”

Shorter froze, his knapsack only halfway on his shoulder. “Seriously?” 

Eiji wasn’t so easily daunted. “We skip that part,” he insisted. He traced the dotted path to what looked like a pile of rocks. “Monsters Live Here” was scrawled beneath it in blue ink. Eiji jabbed the picture. “We start here instead,” he said. “You know where this is?” At first he hadn’t been too sure about Shorter’s idea, but he’d mulled it over while trying to sleep in a room full of snoring men, and the more he thought, the better he liked the idea. Ash deserved this gift from his brother, especially now, after everything.

Ash stood up, snatching the map from the table and tucking it into a pocket. “I don’t even know why we’re bothering with this,” he said crossly. “I’ve already looked all over this godforsaken town.”

“Not to insult that magnificent brain of yours,” Shorter said, opening the front door and ushering them all down the creaky wooden steps, “but you where what? Six?”

“Five,” Ash growled.

Eiji brightened. With a laugh, he threw an arm around Shorter’s shoulders. “Surely we are smarter than a five-year-old, yes? Even if it is Ash!”

Shorter made a sheepish face and didn’t answer. Eiji looked at Ash. He cocked his head, also silent. Then he shrugged, like, what can you do?

Eiji yanked away from Shorter. “Traitor,” he scolded.  
Ash laughed, and Eiji didn’t mind being the butt of the joke after all.

###  
They followed Ash through the tall grass and down to the road that led to town. It was shaping up to be a hot morning, the sky blue and infinite with only a few wispy clouds. Eiji could smell the ocean. Its roar was dull and constant – already he wasn’t really hearing it unless he thought about it. It was amazing how quickly a person could get used to a place; it had taken just a matter of weeks for New York to feel as familiar as home, and he already thought that Cape Cod – or at least traveling with Ash and Shorter – felt predicable and familiar.

Town was less than a mile away, and the boys walked in near-silence. There had been an unspoken agreement not to talk casually about Golzine or the circumstances that had them on the run, and they’d all spent so much time together the past few days that there was nothing new to discuss. Eiji didn’t mind. He felt good. The day was beautiful and he was doing something innocent, something normal with his friends. No one was shooting at them.

An abandoned house stood alone on the outskirts of the village. The shingles had long-ago faded into a weathered grey and the roof looked like it had collapsed in the back. Grasses grew tall and wild, right up to the dilapidated front porch.

“That place looks haunted,” Eiji commented.

“Given the demand for homes on the cape, it must be, to stand empty like that.” Shorter looked at Ash, wiping sweat from his head with a dark blue bandanna. “Was it vacant when you were a kid?”

Ash looked agitated; his expression was shuttered but his body moved jerkily, like he wanted to hurry past the place. “No,” he said shortly. “But it’s on the map.” For a few long moments the only sound was the scuffing of their shoes on the gravel road and Ash’s accelerated breathing. “It’s where the monster lived.”

Eiji and Shorter exchanged a look. It was clear that they both had questions, and equally clear that neither of them were foolhardy enough to ask. They walked straight past the abandoned house and were soon on the first of the three blocks that made up the town.

“So where now?” Shorter asked casually. Enough time had passed that it sounded anything but casual, even to Eiji’s second-language ears. 

Ash silently withdrew the map from the pocket of his cut-off jeans and handed it to his friend. Shorter peered at it. “A campfire?” he asked. 

Eiji peered over his shoulder. A pair of stick figures – one tall and one much smaller – were holding sticks over the fire. “They are cooking things?”

Ash stopped at a cross-street, pausing longer than it took to check for cars. His breath was returning to normal, his movements less like the recoil of an animal poised to run. “I always assumed he meant the campgrounds. They’re on the far side of town.”

Eiji looked at the figures again. It could have been Ash and Griff, maybe? “Did you and Griffin ever cook things at the campground?” he asked.

“Nah, that shit’s for tourists,” Ash replied. Then his expression grew wistful. “We did roast hot dogs over the burners on the range sometimes, though. Griff thought they tasted better cooked over fire.”

“Let’s head there, then,” Shorter said decisively. “But first, I wanna stop in and get some batteries for the radio. Everything’s better with tunes.”

The store was a small, old fashioned carry-out. It was crowded with summer people looking for sun tan oil and snacks. There were at least a dozen people waiting for ice cream. Eiji watched the way eyes followed Ash – these total strangers couldn’t seem to look away – that was the power of his face and demeanor. When it was their turn at the check-out counter, Ash bought the batteries and a couple packs of cigarettes. The girl looked up at him, a request for ID half out of her mouth before her eyes widened in recognition.

“You’re Aslan!” she cried. “Aslan Callenreese!”

Ash looked momentarily startled.

The girl – strawberry blonde and freckled all over – grinned. “I’m Moira Donnell. We were in second grade together!” She reached across the counter and grabbed both of his hands. “It’s so amazing to see you!”

He tried to pull his hands away, but she held tight. “We all wondered what had happened to you, you know,” her voice dropped, “after everything.” The last two words were spoken in something of a stage whisper, the girl shooting furtive glances in either direction. “Some kids said you were living with a rich aunt, others said you were in jail – some even said that he’d killed you, not the other way around.” She was talking at such a pace that Eiji quickly became hopelessly lost. He looked at Shorter for assistance, but his friend was focused on Ash.

Shorter put a hand on Ash’s shoulder and muscled his way between him and the counter. “Hey,” he said in a sharp voice. “We gotta get out of here.” He reached for the batteries and smokes, tossing a ten dollar bill on the counter. “We stay here, they’ll find us and the whole town’ll be toast.” 

Shorter’s delinquent look and tough-guy attitude clearly made an impression on Moira Donnell. She fell silent, abruptly releasing Ash’s hands and stepping back a fraction. “Well, it was good seeing you,” she said uncertainly. 

Ash didn’t answer – he looked a bit shell-shocked – but Shorter took a long look at the girl over his dark glasses. “You need to forget you ever saw him,” he told her in a matter-of-fact way. The poor girl only squeaked and nodded vigorously. Eiji glanced back at her one last time as they left the shop. She seemed pale beneath her freckles. 

Outside, Shorter steered Ash down the street. “Sorry about that,” he said once they were well away from the store. “I think I just killed the last remaining threads of your good reputation around here.”

Ash recovered enough to snort. “No big loss, I promise you.” 

Eiji watched, silently wondering what had just happened. It wasn’t very often that the unflappable Ash Lynx was disturbed, but something about that little town in the middle of sandy nowhere was really getting to him. In the instant before Shorter took over, he’d looked almost paralyzed.

Just ahead, Shorter dug an apple from the knapsack and handed it to Ash, making some kind of joke that Eiji didn’t catch. Ash smiled and bit into the fruit. It looked like things were back to normal, but Eiji hung back, unsure. That girl had said something that scared Ash, Eiji was sure of it. But because of his lack of English, he had no idea what it was. 

^^^  
At the far end of town, they turned down a sandy lane that led down toward the beach. Now that it had fresh batteries, Shorter’s radio peeked out from the pocket of his knapsack, blaring the tinny Top 40 station that had been the only channel he could get without a lot of static. As the path got sandier, Ash paused to take off his shoes. He momentarily dug his toes into the warm sand at the side of the road. Ash had called his Cape Cod home a lot of things, including a dirty sandbox, but Eiji wondered if he’d actually missed it. Certainly not everything, but maybe some things were still special about that place.

The campgrounds were a lot less formal than Eiji had imagined. Tents had been pitched at seemingly random places around the flat, grassy rise that overlooked the beach. It looked more like a village for vagrants than a family camping area. Most sites seemed to have fire pits and some even had picnic tables. A public restroom with outdoor showers stood at one end, and Ash disappeared inside.

“What happen back there?” Eiji asked Shorter as soon as Ash was out of earshot. “That girl. She say someone was killed?”

Shorter looked out at the water, not meeting Eiji’s eyes. His mouth pressed into a hard line. “I don’t know what she was talking about,” he admitted. “But whatever it was, it got under Ash’s skin real bad.” He took off his sunglasses and wiped them on his t-shirt, squinting in the sunlight. “He doesn’t talk about his past,” Shorter continued after a while, “but I figure he ran away from here for a reason. Knowing Ash, it was a really good one.”

“You are very close with him,” Eiji observed softly. “Very good friend.”

Shorter’s smile was so sweet and genuine that it made Eiji wonder how he’d ended up leading a gang of criminals and delinquents. “We go back a ways,” he said. “We know how to be real with each other.”

A pang went through Eiji’s chest, an emotion that he barely understood. But then Ash was coming back, and Eiji felt relieved instead.

“I gotta eat something,” Shorter complained as they walked past a family who was grilling burgers on a little yellow hibachi. “My body isn’t used to all this walking around.”

“You walk in the city,” Ash pointed out.

“Only where I can’t ride my bike,” Shorter countered. “Besides, I mostly go out to find something to eat.” He patted his flat stomach. “I’m not built for hunger.” 

Ash led them down toward the water. Eiji and Shorter stopped to take off their shoes after just a few steps into the deep sand, but Ash didn’t wait. He walked straight into the surf until the waves soaked the ragged ends of his cut-off shorts. He stood there for a long time, seeming to look out into the infinite expanse of sea and sky. At first it wasn’t clear whether he was appreciating nature or brooding, but when he came back to the spot they’d found on a grassy dune, he was scowling.

“Eat,” Eiji insisted, thrusting a sandwich up at him. “You will feel better if you are not so hungry.”

He didn’t stop scowling, but he took the food, so Eiji was satisfied. Ash flopped down into the grass and took a long gulp from the one of the bottles of water. “There are two lighthouses in town, and two churches,” he said without preamble. “Well, three churches,” he amended, “but one is new. There were only two before.”

Shorter, who had been studying the map, handed it over to Eiji. “The map makes it look like the lighthouse should be kind of north and west of the campgrounds,” he said.

Eiji shook his head. “That cannot be,” he protested. He looked up at the sun, just to make sure. “The water is west.”

“East coast,” Shorter pointed out, his mouth full of peanut butter and jelly.

“Eiji’s right,” Ash said. “This isn’t the Atlantic, it’s Cape Cod Bay.” He lay down in the grass and covered his eyes with one arm. “The map doesn’t make any sense.”

“How many times did you search?” Eiji asked in a serious voice.

“I lost count,” Ash said. “It was almost every day, that first summer. I was so excited.” His voice was wistful, muffled a bit by the arm draped over his face. “After school started, I only looked on weekends. Then even less. It was pretty clear by then that the directions didn’t mean anything.”

For a long time they were quiet, only the sounds of their eating interrupting the constant rush of the tide and the sea birds and the children playing up and down the beach. Shorter slumped on the grass near Ash, looking completely defeated. Ash had his eyes closed and his face toward the sky, not eating at all but seeming to get his sustenance from the sun instead. It looked like they were giving up.

It was too sad to just give up.

“Griffin didn’t make mistake,” Eiji said at last, determined to rouse them. Shorter pushed himself up on his elbows, but Ash didn’t move. “He made this for his precious little brother!” Eiji continued. “He would have been careful to make it right!”

Ash rolled onto his side, peering at Eiji through his mop of blond hair. “You think so?” he asked. 

“I do!” Eiji insisted, scrambling to his feet. “You say there are two lighthouses. Map says lighthouse is next stop. We must go!”

Ash lay still for a moment, considering. His green eyes looked sharp and appraising. Then he sat up. “Okay,” he said at last. “Let’s try one more time.”


	3. Chapter 3

The second lighthouse seemed the more promising of the two. The first had been stubby and disappointing, but this one looked the way a lighthouse ought to. It was tall and white, with red and black bands painted around its middle, just like so many of the puzzles in Ash’s cottage.

“I suppose that’s our church?” Shorter asked, pointing at the spire on a building only a block or two away. They lounged in the overgrown grass, leaning against the painted concrete blocks that made up the lighthouse tower. The heat had grown oppressive as the morning turned to afternoon, so they kept to the long shadow of the building. 

Ash gulped down the last of the water. “There’s a well at the far end of the yard,” he said, gesturing vaguely. “We should refill these.”

Eiji waited to see if he would get up to do it himself, but the younger boy only dropped the glass bottle and sprawled out. “The grass feels so cool here,” Ash said, closing his eyes. 

“Nap time?” Shorter asked. He lay spread-eagle in a patch of clover, unconcerned or unaware of the bees that bustled around him, gathering pollen from the purple blossoms.

Eiji stood. “I get water,” he said, gathering up the bottles and their screw-on caps. He left his shoes with the knapsack, enjoying the tickle of the grass on his feet and ankles. They’d done a lot of walking – their circuitous route had been at least five or six miles so far – and it felt good to be barefoot.

He decided that he liked Cape Cod. He’d been to the ocean before – in Japan, you were never very far from a sea-side town – but he’d never seen a place like that before. Ash’s home was so flat – even the high points got high so gradually that he did not notice a rise until he was on it. The bay was full of sailboats and yachts; the whole day he hadn’t seen a single cargo ship or barge. It was as though this place had been created for leisure, for lying about in the grass and dozing in the afternoon sunlight.

The pump was old fashioned – an iron handle painted red and a spout that drained over a patch of muddy gravel. Eiji pumped the device several times before the water started, but when it came out it was cold and clear. Eiji filled the bottles quickly, then bent to drink his fill. It was sharp and mineral, but it soothed his dry throat.

On an impulse, he pumped half a dozen more times until the water came gushing out once more. Then he dunked his head in the stream of it, shuddering in delight as the cold water coursed through his hair and soaked his t-shirt. Immediately, his whole body felt deliciously cool.

As he gathered the bottles and turned back toward the lighthouse, Eiji saw that Ash was sitting up in the shady grass, silently watching him. He felt self-conscious under his scrutiny and ran a hand through his wet hair. His attempt to tame it only mussed it even more, and by the time he reached his friends, Eiji felt ridiculous. 

“You look different,” Ash observed quietly. He took the bottle Eiji offered and screwed off the cap for a deep swallow.

“My hair,” Eiji fussed. “It is too wild lately.” He laughed; Ash’s gaze made him nervous.

The blonde shook his head. “It’s not that. I’ve just –” he broke off, considering. “I guess I’ve never seen you like that. I’ve never seen you when you think no one’s looking.”

Eiji wasn’t sure what to make of the comment and wondered if there was something lost in translation. Either way, he suddenly felt hopelessly self-conscious. “I am different?” he asked, trying to understand.

Ash’s expression was one Eiji had never seen before – part bemused and part troubled. “Yeah,” he said softly. He looked away and took another drink. “A bit.”

Shorter sat up for some water, and Eiji wondered if he’d been asleep; with those sunglasses it was impossible to tell. “Where to now?” he asked Ash. “We’ve got two churches to choose from – either seem more likely to you?”

“The one a bit farther down the coast has a basement,” Ash told him. “I never could get in, but then, I was just a little kid at the time.”

Shorter grinned. “Now you know your way around a B and E,” he commented slyly. Eiji didn’t know what a “B and E” was, but he suspected it was something he’d never experienced before.

“Why does basement matter?” he asked, not wanting to be the clueless foreigner who couldn’t pick up the slang.

Shorter still had the map, and he unfolded it and showed Eiji. There was a sketch of a cross – just ornate enough to be clear that it was the Christian symbol, not just a skewed “X.” Beneath it, Griff had scrawled the words “look underneath.” Eiji felt a surge of hopefulness. If Ash had not been able to get into the basement before, then that would surely explain why he hadn’t found the treasure all those years ago. “This must be the right place,” he said.

Nodding, Ash looked up the coast to the steeple spire that reached above the buildings between. “I hope so.”

***  
The church was at the end of a road, up a rise and across the dunes from the water. It was an old church, built of cream-colored stone and dark wood. The stained-glass windows were tall, gothic arches and a sign out front proclaimed it “Saint Brendan Parish.” 

Ash bounded up the steps to try the huge doors first. “Locked,” he said, but his tone indicated that this wasn’t bad news. “The priest lives in that little house over there,” he said, pointing out a humble brick cottage on the same property. “And if he’s not in the chapel, he’s probably there. Lucky for us, the doors to the storm cellar on the other side, down here.”

He led them down a narrow sidewalk that wound its way toward the back of the church. The foundation was high enough that their heads were well below the fancy windows. Even if the priest had been in the chapel, he wouldn’t have seen them unless he was looking straight out a window. The parking lot behind the church was empty, which was good news as well. The yellow-painted cellar doors were in plain view of the lot, situated at an angle against the church’s stone foundation.

A padlocked chain held them closed.

“Shoulda brought my bolt cutters,” Shorter said ruefully.

“We can shoot it,” Ash said, shaking his head, “but someone would come to check that out for sure.” He pushed on the doors with his feet, searching for give. “Maybe I can find a rotted board?”

While he probed, he and Shorter discussed the possibility of accessing the basement from inside the church. “It might be easier to break into the church. I noticed an open window back there.” 

Ash nudged the chain with his sneaker one last time and turned away, but Eiji noticed something. He knelt by the storm doors as Ash and Shorter crept toward the open window. “Wait!” he cried, then quickly lowered his voice. “The lock – I do not think it is closed!” 

He reached out and twisted the padlock. It moved easily, and one end of the chain slipped off.

The boys hurried back, and in no time Ash was quietly unwrapping the chain from the door handles. “How’d we get so lucky?” Shorter asked no one in particular, shaking his head. “This kinda shit only happens in movies.”

“In movies, they shoot the locks and no one hears it,” Ash countered.

“In movies, they are nearly caught and have to have chase-scene,” Eiji added, looking over his shoulder.

A moment later, Ash had the door open and he ushered them down a short flight of concrete steps. The temperature dropped a few degrees as they stepped out of the sunshine, and it seemed to Eiji that the red-brick walls were damp. 

Shorter put his sunglasses in a pocket and flicked on his flashlight as Ash quietly closed the doors above their heads. He still had the metal chain wrapped around one hand. “In case someone comes by,” he explained, puddling the heavy links on the floor by the steps. “They might not notice that it’s missing, but they’d definitely know something’s up if they found it on the ground.” Eiji was impressed.

The church cellar was even wetter than Eiji had realized – after just a few steps it was clear that there was standing water over most of the stone floor. They had only two flashlights between the three of them, and the beams bouncing across old brick walls and huge wooden rafters made the place even spookier than it needed to be.

“Seems like a weird place to hide a present for a five-year-old,” Shorter observed, giving voice to Eiji’s own thoughts. “What the hell’s this place even for?” There didn’t seem to be anything down there – no dusty chests of pirate’s treasure, no shelves of emergency supplies, not even a box of soggy hymnals.

Ash crept along one wall, ducking under low beams and using his flashlight to search along the floor. “It’s a big space,” he commented. “It must go beneath the entire church.” 

It seemed to Eiji that the farther they went from the doors, the deeper the puddles on the floor became. He realized that the rushing sound he was hearing was the ocean. “Are we going down?” he asked as cold water engulfed the toe of his sneaker. He looked back, hoping to see the light from the crack between the doors, but there was only total darkness. Without thinking, he reached for Ash, curling his fingers into the loose cotton of his t-shirt.

Ash didn’t protest.

“It smells like the sea down here,” Shorter said, splashing forward. His flashlight beam went wild, and Eiji saw that they had finally come to the far end of the basement. The wall ahead of them was of round-edged red brick, but unlike the other three, this one was crumbling. The mortar was gone between most of the bricks, and in a few places the bricks themselves were gone, leaving holes like missing teeth.

“Is that another room?” Ash asked, shining his light through one of the holes. It looked like there was an open space beyond the wall.

“Only one way to find out,” Shorter said. He handed Eiji his flashlight. They both realized what he was about to do, but before either could stop him, Shorter kicked. It was something straight out of a kung-fu movie – a short, powerful kick accompanied by an exhaled ha for emphasis.

The wall shattered.

Ash jumped away from the falling bricks, pulling Eiji back with him. “You could’ve broken your foot!” Ash yelped. 

Shorter beamed. “But I didn’t,” he pointed out. “That wall was weak – even Eiji could’ve kicked it down.”

Eiji let them glower and grin respectively; he was more interested in the new chamber Shorter had discovered. Flashlight firmly in hand, he picked his way across the strewn bricks. The next room was narrow, with a low ceiling and wet stone walls. 

“Is this cave natural?” he asked a moment later, sensing Ash close behind him. Ash didn’t answer. Eiji looked back at him, and was surprised to see a look of awe had wiped away the scowl on his face. 

“What is this place?” Ash asked in a low voice.

It was clearly a cavern of some sort. Eiji swung his flashlight across the walls and ceiling. There were no stalactites or bats or anything else he might’ve expected in a cave. The rock floor was covered in wet sand, the lowest spots puddled with sea water. The air was damp and salty.

The sound of the ocean echoed now.

“It must connect to the beach,” Shorter mused. “Maybe it’s even underwater at high tide.”

Ash had trained his flashlight beam on a smudge of darkness against the sandstone walls. He stepped closer to investigate. Within the smudge there was a rectangular area of cleaner rock; two holes had been drilled into the spot. Ash reached up to touch it. “It looks like scorch marks,” he observed. 

“Torches!” Shorter decided. He snatched the flashlight from Eiji’s fingers and shined it on the opposite wall. Same scorch marks, same holes, as though brackets for torches had been bolted there at one time.

Eiji peered over his shoulder at the holes. “For pirates?” he asked, half-incredulous. He could imagine pirates there, particularly if the cave filled partway with water – the puddles at his feet could become an underground river perfect for small boats. 

“Smugglers, more likely,” Ash said. “Cape Cod was a backwater for centuries before rich families like the Kennedys decided to spend their summers here. Desolate places like this are perfect for running rum. Or anything else you don’t want to pay taxes on.”

“Do you think Griffin wanted you to find smugglers?” Eiji asked. He couldn’t imagine a five-year-old, even a five-year-old Ash Lynx, navigating that path safely.

Before Ash could answer, Shorter gave a shout. He’d moved about ten meters away, and was shining his light further down the tunnel. “Come see this!” he yelled, his voice reverberating in the chamber. “The rock just drops off here!”

Ash moved first, situating himself – and his light – between Eiji and possible danger. Eiji was simultaneously irritated and moved. They stepped carefully toward Shorter. The darkness made it hard to be sure, but it seemed to Eiji that the ocean was right there, in the chamber with them. The sound of it, the smell, the dampness of the air they breathed – it seemed ten times greater than when they’d first entered the cave. 

They reached Shorter’s drop-off just as a swell of seawater rushed up from below. It splashed their feet and legs. When it receded, Ash shined his light off the edge. He whistled under his breath.

The sea was there, roiling and thrashing against the rocks less than three meters below them. “What time is it?” Eiji asked, suddenly realizing that he had no idea about the tide schedule. “Is the water coming or going?”

Another surge pushed in from the bay, this time knocking the flashlight from Ash’s hand. It flipped once in the air before it splashed into the foaming surf. “Shit!” he cried, his hands grasping at empty air. Half-panicked, he looked at Shorter, who immediately stepped away from the edge, protecting their last remaining light.

A third wave rolled over their feet and Eiji felt his unease growing. “I think the water gets higher,” he warned. Shorter was already creeping back the way they’d come, but Ash stood at the edge of the dark abyss, watching the barely-visible swells as the water rocked in and out. “Ash?” Eiji’s voice was troubled.

His friend didn’t respond right away. Another wave and then another crested the rise they stood upon. Eiji’s shoes filled with water and he felt the sand between his feet and the hard rock shifting and pulling as the surf rolled out. “Ash, we need to go,” he warned, snaking his hand around Ash’s elbow and tugging gently. “It is not safe.”

“It’s so strong,” Ash said at last, his voice only just loud enough for Eiji to hear over the echoing roar of the sea. “Everything we’ve done before now, every bad thing that’s happened, it means nothing to the ocean.”

Eiji understood the words, but his English was poor enough that he didn’t think he caught the nuance of what Ash was saying. It sounded fatalistic, as though Ash were considering jumping in. “The ocean will kill us, if we are not careful,” he insisted. Water tumbled around them, soaking them almost to their waists, sucking and pulling. It knocked Eiji off balance, and he clutched Ash’s arm as he scrambled to get his feet on solid ground once more.

“Get the fuck out of there!” Shorter, on higher ground, yelled and waved the flashlight around. “Are you guys idiots?”

Ash blinked. In the near-total darkness, Eiji could see only the lightness of his hair and the shine of his eyes, very near to his own. “Shit,” he said again, softer this time. Eiji could feel the warmth of his breath on his face. “I’m sorry, Eiji.”

“Can we go now?”

Ash nodded and turned toward Shorter’s light. He pulled his arm from Eiji’s grasp, but immediately found his hand and twined their fingers securely together. 

They took a few steps back toward the church before a roar filled Eiji’s ears. He was off his feet, his face plunged into cold, salty water, before he realized what was happening. He felt a shoe ripped from his foot, his toes scraping against sand and stone. His shoulder hit something large and softer than rock – Ash – and his arm strained as the water tried to pull them apart.

“Ash!” he cried, getting his head out of the dark, foamy surf and trying to pull his friend up, too. It was too dark to know for sure, but he thought Ash’s head was still underwater. His feet scrabbled against the cave floor. The water sucked them back, pulling them away from Shorter, away from the ledge. “Ash!” he called again. His shoulder strained, but he pulled harder, gripping Ash’s hand in terrified panic.

No matter what, he wasn’t going to let go.


	4. Chapter 4

Eiji’s bare foot found a hollow in the stone. He curled his toes into it, gripping until the water no longer seemed to carry him deeper into the forbidding darkness of the cave. Through the roar of water and panic, he thought he heard Shorter yelling.

Ash’s fingers clenched around his, and suddenly his friend was struggling to his feet next to him, coughing and spitting sea water. “Goddamn,” he gasped. Eiji staggered forward, pulling Ash up along with him, but the ocean slammed against his back, knocking them both forward.

This time, the tumble tore them apart. He heard Ash call his name before the water engulfed him again. Eiji’s chin slammed hard on the ground and the taste of blood joined the salt in his mouth. He clawed at the sandy bottom, searching for something – anything – to cling to before the rocking wave inevitably turned its push in to a pull. He somehow found his way to the surface and took a gasping breath of air and foam. 

Shorter was there, knee deep in the surf and grabbing – first at Eiji’s shirt and then his arm. “Hurry!” he bellowed. “The waves are getting bigger!”

Eiji tried to breathe but managed only to cough. “Ash,” he croaked, a bubble of wet, salty air choking him. Shorter hauled him up to his feet and shoved him up the rise.

“I’ll get him,” the Chinese barked. “I need light, though!”

Shorter had left the flashlight far from the edge, its beam pointed to illuminate the ceiling. Eiji staggered over to it and grasped it in shaking fingers. He turned it back to where his friends struggled in the water. The waves had receded once more, leaving a tangle of seaweed and chaotic, swirling sand. Shorter stood on the ledge, water past his shins where just minutes before there had been only puddles.

“Where is he?” Eiji cried, sweeping the light over the water. There seemed to be no sign of Ash.

“Ash!” Shorter bellowed. His voice echoed against the walls, the ceiling. “Ash!”

Eiji thought of that awful moment when Ash’s hand had been ripped away. Had he not been holding tightly enough? Should he have tried harder not to let go? The pain in his lungs intensified, and something between a cough and a sob racked his body. 

When the next wave came, Shorter struggled to stay on his feet. The water surged past him, almost to where Eiji crouched with the flashlight. The black sea seemed alive – the flashlight’s beam illuminated brown foam and tumbling, crashing waves. 

And suddenly a flash of golden hair and the dirty white of a t-shirt. “Shorter! He is there!” Eiji yelped. But Shorter had already seen and was splashing out to haul their friend out of the water. Eiji scrambled down to help, each taking one arm while the flashlight dangled uselessly from its strap around Eiji’s wrist.

They were halfway back to the broken brick wall before it seemed they were far enough away from the water to stop, to check on Ash’s condition. He was conscious, but barely. His breathing was a gurgling gasp and a gash over one eye bled profusely. “I hate this goddamn place,” he growled weakly. “I got sand fucking everywhere.”

Shorter smiled, and Eiji felt a deep sense of relief. Foul language and grumbling complaints meant that Ash was okay.

***  
They took a more direct route back to Ash’s cottage, attracting uncomfortable attention as they went. Eiji’s left shoe was gone for good, so he pulled off the other and tossed it into a ditch. He wondered if he could buy anything more substantial than flip-flops at the general store. Their clothes became stiff and crusty as they dried, and the ocean water made Ash’s hair look dull and dirty. Eiji figured his was probably worse – puffy and greyed with salt.

Their knapsacks were gone – this included their water bottles and Shorter’s radio. The map was still in Shorter’s back pocket, wet enough that they wanted to wait to unfold it, in case it crumbled.

By the time they got back to the cottage, the sun was low over the western horizon. Ibé and Max were at the bar, having a drink and probably watching the evening news on the little television there. Shorter took his turn in the outdoor shower first, leaving Ash and Eiji to inspect each others’ wounds.

The cut over Ash’s eye wasn’t deep, already it had stopped bleeding and was starting to crust over. Eiji cleaned it with the antiseptic in the first aid kit, then carefully patched it up with a butterfly bandage. “I’m sorry we did not find Griff’s treasure,” he said as he finished up.

Ash reached out to gently touch the angry bruise on Eiji’s jaw. Eiji winced, but managed not to yank away. Ash gave him a sad smile. “This is gonna be purple by tomorrow morning,” he said ruefully.

“You must be very disappointed,” Eiji said. From the start, Ash had been cynical about their chances of finding whatever it was that his brother had left him, but Eiji remembered the hopeful look in his eyes when they’d gotten to the church. 

“We didn’t die,” Ash said, shaking his head. “That’ll have to be good enough.” He pulled a moth-eaten wool blanket from the back of the couch and wrapped it around Eiji’s shoulders. It was warm and not nearly as scratchy as it looked. “I can’t believe this is still here,” Ash said wonderingly, fingering the soft, beige yarn.

“It is from before?” Eiji asked.

“It was my favorite,” Ash confessed. “Griff used to wrap me up in it when I was cold. He said I was sleeping with my flock of sheep.” 

He got up and went into the bedroom – Eiji could hear him rummaging through the drawers, probably looking for something to change into after his shower. The loose board in front of the dresser squeaked. Eiji pulled the blanket closer around his shoulders and leaned over the arm of the couch so he could watch his friend. Ash crouched over a low drawer, the board squealing every time he shifted his weight. The portrait of Jesus smiled beatifically over his blond head and suddenly Eiji realized that they’d been terribly, foolishly wrong.

He jumped to his feet and darted over to the table. Shorter had left the map there, carefully unfolded and pressed beneath a plate so it would dry flat. “Ash!” he cried, his excitement sounding like panic. 

Ash was by his side in a moment, his gun in his hand and his eyes sharp. “Did you hear something outside?” he asked in a low voice, his eyes on the windows.

Eiji shook his head. “We looked in wrong place!” he said his words even more heavily accented in his excitement. He pointed at the map. “Flock of sheep. Cross. It is not what we think!”

Ash frowned, confused.

“I know where your brother hid your treasure!” Eiji touched the cartoon sheep on the map. “Flock of sheep,” he said and then he held up the end of the wool blanket. “Flock of sheep.” He grinned at Ash’s blinking, blank face and pointed at the trapdoor to the root cellar. “Monsters live here,” he said, quoting the message on the map.

It was like flipping a switch. Ash’s whole face lit up. He glanced at the map – the pair of stick figures cooking hot dogs over fire – and then into the kitchen. “The campfire was the stove,” he said wonderingly. “Then the lighthouse?”

They both glanced along the invisible path traced by the map until they reached the shelves beneath the windows. “The puzzles!” Ash cried. He threw an arm around Eiji’s shoulders and squeezed triumphantly. “Those shitty puzzles!”

“What about the puzzles?” Shorter’s voice came from the doorway. He had a towel in one hand and the bath caddie in the other. “The one I did last night was missing three pieces,” he grumbled. “Definitely don’t recommend!”

“They are lighthouse on map!” Eiji said in a rush. Ash was already in the bedroom, so he didn’t stick around to explain. 

Ash was on his knees on the floor, prying up the loose floorboard with the blade of his pocket knife. “Down here, right?” he asked Eiji as the Japanese boy came into the room. “The map says ‘look underneath’. He meant that picture, right?” He glanced up at the icon and then looked at Eiji. His eyes were bright and his cheeks flushed. A smile played over his lips.

“That is what I think,” Eiji told him breathlessly. He crouched beside him, his heart beating wildly. He’d never seen Ash like this – fiercely determined, yes, but never this hopeful.

Shorter came and stood over them, and the fizz-sound of a newly-opened 7-Up came just before the _pop_ as the board came loose. He leaned down and peered into the dark cavity beneath the floor. “This is an interesting development,” he said dryly. “If the damn thing’s in here, remind me again why we nearly got ourselves killed under that church?”

Ash took a moment to toss a lopsided grin at his old friend. “My mistake,” he said, without a trace of humility. 

Eiji squinted. Did he see a package down there? “Is it there?” he asked eagerly. “Did we find the right place?”

Ash reached in to the narrow space between the boards and Eiji heard the rustle of paper as his fingers closed around something. “Something is there!” he said eagerly. He was surprised at how much this moment meant to him, how very much he’d wanted to see Ash receive this last gift from his brother. He knew it would never replace Griffin in Ash’s life – or erase the shameful part he’d played in his death – but Ash deserved any happiness he could find, and this seemed to be a joy from another life, one maybe not so tarnished.

It was a brown paper bag, folded over on itself with something light and bulky inside. Ash’s hands trembled as he opened the bag. 

It was a toy. The box was blue and red and white, with the picture of a man on a motorcycle on the front. “An Evel Knievel Stunt Cycle!” Shorter cried, delighted. “I had one of those when I was a kid, man. It was the best!” 

Ash stared at it for a long moment, rendered speechless. Eiji watched him, his heart pounding. Was he disappointed? It was a toy for a little kid – what use did Ash have for it now? Eiji worried that the search had become more than it was meant to be, that this last game of Griffin’s had become some kind of message from beyond the grave for Ash, a message that no longer made any sense.

Finally, Ash lowered the box to his lap, putting one hand over his eyes with a shuddering sigh. Eiji realized with a start that he was crying. “I wanted this,” Ash said in a small voice. “I knew better than to ask for anything, but I wanted this so damn much.”

“I’m gonna go put together another of those ugly-ass puzzles,” Shorter said suddenly. He reached down and squeezed Ash’s shoulder. Before turning to go, he gave Eiji a long, meaning-laden look. _Take care of him._

Eiji leaned close to Ash, wanting to put his arms around him but afraid that it would be the wrong thing to do. “You are sad?” he asked, bumping his shoulder with his own instead.

Ash looked at the box in his lap, and a smile crept over his face. He used the palm of one hand to wipe away tears. “No,” he said, after a moment. “No, Eiji, it turns out that this is what happy looks like. Really fucking happy.”

“Good.” Eiji picked up the toy and studied it. “It looks like fun. Maybe better than lighthouse puzzles tonight?”

Ash laughed, wincing a bit as the movement jostled the cut above his brow. “Thanks for saving me down there,” he said softly. “When that water rushed up, I thought I was a goner, until I realized that I was still holding on to you.”

Eiji shook his head. “The only reason I was able to fight so hard,” he admitted, “was because I had to fight for you, too. So you saved me, really.”

“No way!” Ash protested. “I –” 

“I saved both your asses!” Shorter’s yell from the other room ended the discussion. “Now someone get in here and help me with this puzzle. You don’t just do three-thousand pieces by yourself!”

Ash wedged the board back into the floor and put the Evel Knievel box on the dresser. Then he held out a hand to Eiji, hauling him to his feet. “He won’t stop calling until we come,” he said in a low voice.

Eiji shrugged. “I guess then, we have no choice?”

“None.”

They both grinned.


End file.
